


his head in the clouds

by ecomexi



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, M/M, canon-compliant (or i try to be), could be read as shippy or not. whatever ur cup of tea is, lots of monologue...lots of reflection...u know the drill, plus misc characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-07 09:16:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17957795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ecomexi/pseuds/ecomexi
Summary: He pushed his way forward, and the displeased voices that were directed at him were like raindrops compared to the flowing ocean of words from the members onstage. It was not long before Ibara could look up and see fine clearly, towering from where he stood, unattainable.





	his head in the clouds

_“fine”._

The summer sun pricked at Ibara's skin as he walked past the frantic crowd gathering nearby. People scrambled, like animals climbing over another, towards something; their eyes darted between one another, suspicious and hostile scavengers, perhaps paranoid that someone would snatch what was rightfully theirs. And Ibara, from a distance, heard that word — no, it was like a name — repeated within the pack of predators.

_“fine”._

Like a name. The way the curtains fell, perhaps. Or maybe it was supposed to be simpler than that. Either way, Ibara, of course, understood what the crowd of people meant when they called that name. To them, it meant happiness. To Ibara, it meant success. From a distance, he cradled his phone under his chin, reporting into the microphone.

"Your Excellency," he began, a tingling feeling of satisfaction filling him. "The location of the live is just as we suspected."

"Yes, I'll soon be conducting the infiltration." He laughed joyfully, watching multitudes of people flood into some nearby venue. "I will, of course, report any noteworthy happenings to you, as you requested, Your Excellency. Though, I do find it quite unusual of you to take interest in matters such as these..."

There was an icy silence. Had Ibara not known better, he would have suspected that Nagisa had hung up already.

"Ah, I humbly apologize," though Ibara's tone would not have shown it, he assured Nagisa rather insincerely — he could still hear his partner’s calm, wordless breathing over the line. "This Ibara Saegusa will be going now. Salute!"

He merged into the entering crowd, now made up of only a few fans who had not yet made it into the venue. The stage he beholded was an elegant one; nothing less than what he had expected from fine, so Ibara was not astounded nor surprised. Neither was he surprised by the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd packed into the venue, chattering anxiously to one another, gazing up at the stage with wide eyes.

He made a point about keeping his gaze fixed to the ground, at the heels of the people ahead of him. He was wearing inconspicuous colors; he had swapped to contacts in his eyes and he kept pulling the brim of his hat down to shield the features of his face. And yet he still felt on edge, among all these precautions. A voice buried deep within his chest told him why, but it was so small that it was easy for Ibara to try to shut out. _Nervous_ , was one of the words that escaped. _Afraid_. He crushed the voice beneath his heel as he squeezed further through the crowd.

He could make out fine standing there on the stage now, bathed in a bright, consuming light from above. Words were spoken over a microphone — booming, and powerful. Ibara couldn't see — he couldn't see, he... He pushed his way forward, and the displeased voices that were directed at him were like raindrops compared to the flowing ocean of words from the members onstage. It was not long before Ibara could look up and see them clearly, towering from where he stood, unattainable.

No, it was still hard to watch. If not because of the overpowering light enveloping them, then because of the voice (brandishing those same words) crawling back up his throat. Vulnerable and desperate, it scratched and clawed, grabbing hold wherever it could. As the room dimmed and those glittering, glowing lights dissipated, Ibara swallowed; he could never let it show, but some sour-feeling mixture of dread and coldness was filling his insides.

He fixed his gaze. There he was... not quite close enough to touch, but so close that Ibara could look upon him in a familiar way. Part of him wanted to push even further, but his sense of reason restrained him; he was, of course, not the type to act so impulsively. Did this person up on the stage have a part in the voice buried in his chest?

Suddenly, there was music. Nothing he hadn't heard before, because after all, it was fine. Members of fine were performing without apparent flaw, with everything they had — no, but it was not perfect. Perfect were the graceful movements of the seniors. Ibara knew their names, knew all about them. His focus zeroed in on Tenshouin Eichi, who danced with such an elegance that, for anyone else, it would be difficult to take your eyes off of him. His movements were smooth, precise, and captivating in that way.

There was no question that this was the same emperor Ibara had always seen pictured on billboards and magazines — yet somehow, it was always different when he watched him in person. The way his eyes fluttered with delight, always half-lidded, always refined; and the way he spoke sounded so scripted, and yet so natural. The emperor he had once watched (it seemed so long ago, and yet it couldn't have been more than a year) seemed just the same. The one by the emperor's side, who Ibara knew as Hibiki Wataru, he had also seen long ago. He, too, performed with an extraordinarily high quality, all movements flowing and natural. It was rather ironic to Ibara that the two of them were by the others' side now.

Another member of fine was the Himemiya child. The face of the small boy was not unfamiliar to Ibara. He had been there too, after all, watching the emperor's battle, enchanted. He hadn't yet seen the boy's performance — it was determined, despite being unpolished and amateur — but he had heard about him, of course, from Yuzuru. How he was spoiled, a bit of a brat, and very childish, but also how he had a loving heart. Yuzuru, too, was singing next to his unitmates, his gaze focused intently on Tori, rather than the audience. The pet and his master were severely imperfect, and there was a clear divide between the skill of the upperclassmen compared to the juniors.

Ibara wished he could say that this was the first time he'd seen his friend since they'd gone their separate ways, but it simply wasn't true. Even if Yuzuru wasn't aware of it, Ibara had seen him time and time again, as if fate were cursing him. As if it were testing him, pulling him closer, and urging him on. Once with Yuzuru's arm protectively wrapped around the Himemiya, as the boy watched the emperor and his adversaries clash with dazzled eyes; Yuzuru’s eyes were distant like they were now, but still familiar, still unchanged. A second time was a glance from far away as Ibara had been conducting his search of Yumenosaki, Yuzuru without his master this time. His hair was cut short, he was a student of Yumenosaki, but most striking of all was how different his eyes seemed — alarmingly unfamiliar, like they belonged to an entirely different person.

... Ibara scoffed now, seeing that ridiculous expression Yuzuru had plastered on his face. This was all far from perfection. Ibara had not yet tightened his grip on the world of idols, but for now he didn't need to; all of that knowledge would be useless to recognize that expression Yuzuru was making. It was familiar, he knew. An expression where he was thinking not of himself — not of where he was, not even thinking of what he was doing — but of someone else, someplace else. Yes, he had often seen it plaguing the face of his childhood friend as they worked and trained. Sometimes, he would blink a few times, as if suddenly remembering something, and then it would pass. Other times, the expression would linger there for hours, and Ibara would have to call out his name time after time to pull him out of that dreamlike state.

How gross it all was. And yet, even though he'd always think that, Ibara had sat and listened to what he said. Even though all he had to say was the same privileged things about the mansion, the beds, the flowers, the kitchen, the garden... Ibara had listened devoutly even so. Even if he had so harshly ridiculed that way of thinking, he listened, and he fell victim to it. Even on that day, when Yuzuru told him none of those mansions and freedom and fortune was worth going back to — he scolded him, reminded him what exactly he was rebuking by saying that. Reminded him how foolish it would be to reject a life like that.

It had made him angry, love given and then rejected like that. And Yuzuru was always so bad at it. It was always a vicious cycle; he'd pour his heart out for just about everything — for his cruel parents, for his old lifestyle, and for his new one — and then reject it again in the blink of an eye, when it was convenient for him. Perhaps that was the source of Ibara's bitterness. Perhaps (no, almost definitely) what stung the most was the way Yuzuru had treated all of these things no differently from how he had treated Ibara. A poor excuse of security, of warmth, all viciously torn away from him in an instant.

The crowd was cheering now, and Ibara realized he had been standing still there for some time. The live had yet to end, but fans were cheering as if fine had just delivered a finale performance. Ibara joined them half-heartedly, if only to blend into them properly. The members were waving at the audience joyfully; the Himemiya clung to the arm of the emperor cutely, and Yuzuru still held that smiling, spellbound look about him. It had a motherly quality about it, doting and watchful and loving.

Ibara had never wanted it. He had never longed for anything like the way Yuzuru was looking at this boy. His young, naive self had never asked to be taken in so readily, to be given that love. But it was in Yuzuru's nature to give. He gave love, even to someone as prideful and pitiful as himself. How they'd share a lunch together, Yuzuru insisting that Ibara eat parts of his; Ibara convincing him to sneak out to the woods during training, throwing stones into a stream and talking for what felt like hours; Yuzuru hesitating even for a moment for his sake when Ibara fell behind him as they ran side-by-side. Ibara never wanted it — he was better off without it, actually — because it would only be burden. It would only be something to weigh him down later when it was too late to push it off his shoulders. But Ibara accepted all of it and more, and he had even grown used to it. Even as he told himself he shouldn't trust that love, he shouldn't rely on it — he never could refuse it, not really.

And he'd grown to hate it, too. Because it wasn't true, and Ibara knew it — it was lazy and half-assed, just a passing idea before it moved on and faded away. Because Ibara knew, even back then, that one day Yuzuru and the love that came with him would be by his side, and the next, they'd both be far, far away without so much as leaving a "goodbye".

Yuzuru was the same. They were all the same — his parents, that orphanage, and his only friend. Abandoned commitments, unfulfilled promises, love shared carelessly. All of those things were all rooted in the same fundamental problem: it was in the nature of humans to betray and meddle, and yet they all pretended otherwise. What a worthless promise; and hadn't Yuzuru claimed that their encounter was fate? What sort of cruel encounter of fate was cut short so soon?

Fine were performing again, this time with more elegance than before. Yuzuru's eyes were still fogged up with distraction, and yet he made no noticeable errors. Of course, it was because Yuzuru was always advanced. That, in of itself, was another half-assed excuse for talent. He, who Ibara had idolized and respected, who seemed like a hero in his young eyes, had quit halfway through, wasting away into nothing. He could have done anything, couldn't he? And yet he ran away, into the safety of his masters' arms. How frustrating it was, to see the person always superior to you give up.

Fine was not going to be a representative in the SS battle. It was a great disappointement to Ibara, not only to see once more of his childhood friend's incompetence,  but because he would have gladly seized an opportunity to prove who had been stronger. He would not be lost in an enchanted world up onstage; while Yuzuru was gazing at the boy beside him, Ibara would be waiting at the other side with a gun, waiting for the moment he could end his life with one shot. He wanted to show him that he was the superior one, now; to show him how everyone was glaring up at him, prostrated on the ground in reverence.

And Ibara would not make such careless promises. He would see it through, this revenge of his, this declaration of war. And if Yuzuru cowered away like a dog with its tail tucked, then Ibara would only draw nearer and nearer, his teeth bared, until his old friend was backed up against a wall. He wondered what would come of this fateful encounter? What words would Yuzuru offer to him? Those of scorn? Ignorance? Pleading? When and where would it be that those distant eyes finally noticed him?

Wherever would fate place them the next time they met?

Disconcerted, Ibara gazed up to the performance again. And he pondered, wondering if anyone aside from himself would find fault in Yuzuru’s performance. For no one was as familiar with that expression as he was. He watched the live, taking and analyzing data. Memorizing weaknesses, taking note of strengths, lingering on the multitudes of information all taking place around him. That was what he came here for, wasn’t it?

Suddenly, his eyes locked with that person, ever so far away, that stood on stage. He was reciting beautiful lyrics, elaborately decorated with images of grace and words of platitudes. Ah, they sounded so simple, so heavenly, coupled with the warm, familiar voice that sung them... Ibara felt a smile begin to blossom, but he broke from the passive gaze directed at him as he turned away — rejecting it. He wondered if this unfamiliar person could even register his face, with his mind clouded so.

By the time he’d reached the venue’s exit, the song was reaching its climax. Ibara found himself letting the smile slip as he pushed the door open and let it crash behind him. No, not a smile — a grin. Ibara grinned, and the voices blared behind the sealed doors. He began to laugh, even. He felt his back pressed hard against the door of the venue.

“So this is what he meant...” To be alive. He couldn’t finish it aloud, for his throat filled with mirth refused the words as they tried to escape. Yes, it was truly a wonderful thing to be alive. He nodded to reassure himself, in the process suppressing his laughter, and he pulled out his smartphone to make another call.

“Your Excellency.” Ibara smiled cordially, even though Nagisa couldn’t see him, and lied. “The live has concluded.”

“.... I see,” that pensive voice responded over the receiver the same as ever.

“Salute~♪ It was nothing out of the ordinary at all! In fact, everything went smoothly, just as we predicted!” There was a flat noise of acknowledgement from Nagisa’s end. “Yumenosaki’s fine is much less formidable than we initially concluded; their underclassmen are much too amateur, based on my deductions! We shouldn’t have to concern ourselves with the likes of mortals, Your Excellency, unless there occurred unexpected circumstances! I have now concluded my report! Salute~♪”

“.... And the members...?” Nagisa murmured thoughtfully once more, uncharacteristically curious.

“What of them, Your Excellency? The members of fine are Tenshouin Eichi, Hibiki Wataru, Fushimi Yuzuru, and Himemiya Tori. Would you like me to recite their performance data and identifying information?”

“.... How are they?” Still quiet. Ibara sniffed derisively.

“Your Excellency, excuse my arrogance, but someone as esteemed as yourself should not concern yourself with those lower members of fine. Your heart belongs to Adam only.”

“.... I don’t particularly like them,” he refuted simply, “I only wonder what motivates them to go on.”

“Yes, well, Your Excellency, you are a former member of fine. Of course, I knew that much at our first encounter...☆”

Nagisa didn’t say anything else for a moment. Then, “.... Ibara.”

“Yes, Your Excellency?”

“.... That night... Why did you go?”

Why, indeed. There was a prolonged silence from Ibara, even longer than the ones he often got from Nagisa. Ibara realized he suddenly held his smartphone with a grip a little bit tighter than it had been before. He wished he knew the answer to the question Nagisa proposed.

Why, indeed.

“.... Please, watch the rest of the live.” Ibara could almost hear the quiet smile on the other side of the receiver, relieving him of the prying question. “.... I will be with you soon, Ibara.”

A click. Ibara tucked his smartphone into his pocket, trying to dismiss the muffled music playing behind those doors, vibrating through his body backed into a wall. So after all, he was never the one looking down. He could never bare his teeth in such a fearsome manner, because he was too busy cowering like this.

And Ibara thought about that stranger’s clouded eyes, and how they did not know him. And the voice in his chest seemed to chatter again, this time spitting out words like _defeat._ Words like _frustration_ and _bitterness._

Fate was a strange thing.

**Author's Note:**

> hello everyone this single recent event (wondergame) could fuel me for a century and it will. i wanted to write something about ibara because i found his way of thinking very interesting, what with his hatred of half-assed efforts, his obsession with revenge and being on top, the reveal of his true pronoun, and how he showed up after an exfine live, presumably having watched it :thinking emoji: i hope you all appreciated him in the event as much i did... he's grown so much...... uuuuu
> 
> my twitter is _zuttosobade (if it doesnt work, check my profile for the correct handle, i probably changed it).


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